


Breakfast at Tiffany's

by OceanusAporia



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Clark and Bruce are always BFFs in my stories, not sorry, the rest of the league is mentioned as background characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanusAporia/pseuds/OceanusAporia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, so you’ve watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, huh?” Hal said with a wicked grin, leaning on the back of Bruce’s chair.</p>
<p>This was supposed to be a super short and fluffy story but it suddenly got a little angsty…I promise it still ends on a cute note though!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at Tiffany's

**Author's Note:**

> Again, no beta, so any mistakes are all my own. Apparently my thing is to write stories in the middle of Hal and Bruce’s relationship because I don’t have the patience to write full stories. Or stories that actually relate to each other. Also, thank God Hal speaks “Bat” because Bruce has no idea how to communicate like a human being. Constructive criticism and any suggestions are always welcome!

It was ridiculous – Hal knew – because he’d had sex with Bruce enough times to know the man was plenty human, had seen him bleed enough in battle to know it frighteningly well, but little moments like this when Hal caught him saying too much by accident, were just too priceless. It meant Bruce was comfortable enough around Hal to make such a small slip and it made his chest warm in a way he refused to reflect on.

“Oh, so you’ve watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, huh?” Hal said with a wicked grin, leaning on the back of Bruce’s chair. They were in full costume but no one else was around that Saturday morning and so Hal was taking little liberties like almost entering “Batman’s” personal space while he could.

Bruce refused to look away from the watchtower monitor but Hal caught the half moment pause in his typing. “There are very few people who have not heard of the movie. I’m curious as to when Carol forced you to watch it, before or after you broke up.”

Hal was flustered for a moment, because of course Carol was the one that forced him to watch it, and he couldn’t tell if Bruce was amused, making a jab at his ex, or spouting creepy facts because he could. “Oh we’re not derailing this on to my movie choices, _you_ watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s!” Hal insisted pointing a finger accusingly. “And since none of Bruce Wayne’s “dates” have the power to force a movie on Batman, that must mean you _wanted_ to watch it.” He continued smugly. 

It was possible he had watched it in college for some artsy class, but Hal doubted Bruce spent time on classes like that and besides there wouldn’t have been the moment of hesitation in Bruce’s movements if it was something as benign as that. Not that there was actually wrong with watching the movie, if he were being honest, Hal had kind of enjoyed it, but that wasn’t the point here. The point was Hal just might have hit on something that _embarrassed_ Bruce – something he had begun to think didn’t exist.

Bruce stopped – actually _completely_ stopped typing - and it made Hal also stop and feel suddenly and terrifyingly uncertain. Was Bruce angry? Oh shit – had it been his mother’s favorite movie or something? Hal felt himself pale, because that would make sense, that would make so much sense and Hal had just…

“Cassandra,” Bruce started and then terrifyingly, hesitated, “has a fondness for Audrey Hepburn.” He said finally.

For a moment Hal just felt a wash of relief that he hadn’t accidentally said something about Bruce’s mother, that he opened his mouth without much consideration, snorting, “Since when can Batgirl order Batman around?” 

Bruce stiffened so immediately that the grin fell right off Hal’s face. “She can’t.” The tone was clipped, annoyed and _shit_ , just _shit_.

Hal opened his mouth to try and fix what he fucked up or at least ascertain _what_ he’d fucked up but an alarm blared something about a robot attack before he could and Bruce was already coordinating with other league members.

\----------***----------

Hal’s construct flickered when Flash’s panicked voice announced Batman was down, nearly getting himself and Cyborg killed. The zeta tubes were down and Superman, thank God, recovered enough from his momentary shock to order Batman sped to the Batcave curtesy of the fastest man alive. The whole thing was a shit show, had been from the start and now had just devolved into chaos. Shazam, who Batman had apparently gone down saving the ass of, was apologizing profusely and Hal – Hal just wanted to tear something apart. 

So he did.

Everyone gave him a wide berth when the dust settled and his feet touched back to the ground, even Flash was staying a few steps back, eyes wide. Honestly, if Hal wasn’t still so angry and exhausted he’d have been a little frightened himself. As it was he stood there trying to catch his breath and run away emotions in the wreckage. Wonder Woman was giving him an assessing look as if reconsidering his worth and Cyborg was giving him a wary look that clearly stated Hal had gotten damn lucky not to have killed anyone.

“Hal,” It was Superman, of course it was Superman, who walked right up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s stabilized.” He said quietly.

Hal was shaking in exhaustion – not anything else – and he didn’t need that look in Superman’s eyes, that _pity_ and _understanding_ as if he knew something the others didn’t just because he knew Hal and Bruce _messed around_ sometimes and Hal wanted to tear something apart all over again. Of course Bruce was stable, he was always fine, he was the Goddamn Batman and he’d taken much worse hits than this and they didn’t have that kind of relationship alright? 

It had nothing to do with he and Bruce being on bad terms, that the last thing he’d said to the man had made him clam up because he had mocked something he knew he hadn’t quite grasped the meaning of and still couldn’t figure it out – had nothing to do with the fact that Hal had assigned himself to Cyborg and left Bruce with Shazam despite Bruce’s _own orders_ because he hadn’t wanted to deal with the consequences of his foot in mouth disease just yet. It had nothing to do with any of that _damnit_.

“It was taking too long.” Hal rasped instead, wanting to yank away from the too comforting hand on his shoulder but refraining because a sudden movement with his shakiness might have just landed him on his own ass. 

Superman frowned at him, as if disappointed, and removed the hand himself. He didn’t say anything about it though. “You look drained. Why don’t you pack it in, we’ll handle clean up.” It was said kindly enough but it was still kind of a slap in the face, the “you’re no good here right now” evident along with the unstated “there will be discussions about this later” which was fair enough.

“Sure.” Hal said curtly, not caring to address the undertones, because honestly _fuck Clark_ and powered himself up through the exhaustion flying away before another word was said and very pointedly in the opposite direction of Gotham.

\----------***----------

Hal didn’t realize he was heading to Gotham until he was already in the cave, he’d been flying around aimlessly until it had started to get dark out. The massive computer was on, two blips dancing along the corner window but no one was in the chair to watch it. His chest tightened.

How many times had he stopped by to see Bruce carefully _not_ watching the blips always up in the corner of his screen? Now that Hal thought about it, Bruce was almost always in that chair when Hal arrived, not that Hal ever called ahead, but that’s where he’d find Bruce. Sometimes he’d been at his lab to the side but never had he been out of the cave, or had anyone else besides maybe Alfred been around. 

Bruce had always just been sitting there and…and now Hal was wondering how much of an idiot he must be to have thought it was just luck. It was Bruce – he probably knew how many times Hal peed in a day, he must have known when Hal was on his way over. He’d known and he’d made sure he was always there when Hal showed up. Come to think of it, Bruce was doubtlessly behind the uncanny amount of monitor shifts they had together at the tower.

“Master Jordan.” 

Hal started and turned to see Alfred standing behind him, sleeves rolled up and face tired.

“I…” Hal suddenly had nothing to say. Or at least, nothing that he wanted to say. “Who’s out?” he blurted instead, gesturing to the computer. It was what he’d always asked Bruce but now the chair was _empty_.

Alfred looked like he absolutely knew that wasn’t what Hal had wanted to say. “Master’s Dick and Tim. Oracle is monitoring their whereabouts. Master Bruce does not typically patrol on Tuesdays but I suspect they desired an excuse to be active.”

Thankfully Alfred continued talking before Hal had to come up with more conversation. “Master Bruce is asleep yet, but is to your left should you wish to see him.” Alfred added and walked away before Hal could say anything else.

Hal hesitated, floating in the entrance another few seconds before deciding he’d just take a quick look and be done with it, see Bruce was unconscious but fine and leave it at that. 

It wasn’t just Bruce unconscious, however. There was a young woman curled up in an armchair next to Bruce’s bed with short raven hair, Asian features, and dark brown eyes that snapped up to take him in when he rounded the corner. 

Batgirl – Cassandra – Hal realized. He hadn’t ever met or worked with the girl, well woman now – in fact Dick was the only one he had – but he’d heard Barry and Clark talk about her. She was supposed to be terrifying in combat but it was hard to see at the moment. She just looked…small.

Hal didn’t know what to say and Cassandra wasn’t speaking up, just watching him calmly. A minute ticked by, two. Hal felt the distinct urge to fidget under the thoughtful look – it wasn’t Bruce’s glare but it was no less piercing. 

“I am afraid Master Bruce will have to miss this Tuesday.” Alfred interrupted them, voice gentle and clearly directed at Cassandra who seemed to curl up tighter, and Hal realized she was curling around something. Alfred said something else about Cass getting her rest but Hal’s attention was now drawn to the object in Cassandra’s arms. A small box that – a DVD, Hal realized – and it was at that moment that it all came together.

It was a movie night. Every Tuesday Bruce had a movie night with...his daughter.

Without realizing it his ring had powered off and he was standing on his own two feet, looking at Cassandra, whose curious gaze had returned to him.

Movie nights with his daughter, where she could pick the movie and Bruce watched Audrey Hepburn movie after Audrey Hepburn movie because his daughter asked him to watch them with her.

It was ridiculous, because Hal had known, known for years, on an intellectual level that Bruce Wayne had numerous wards and whatever other legal terms were thrown around. He’d known Bruce before the first Robin donned cape and shorts, knew there were practically a handful of other Robins and Bats running around – and yet it had never actually hit Hal until now, looking at Cassandra curled up at his bedside that Bruce had _children_.

It wasn’t just headlines, it wasn’t just sidekicks or protégés.

Bruce had _children_. Bruce had _lost_ a child. And Hal, had not once, in all the years of their messing around – even just friendship – tried to get to know them, and Bruce’s admittance earlier had been a tentative invitation to do just that. _Cassandra_ liked Audrey Hepburn – Bruce never talked about his protégés, _kids_ , if he didn’t have to and certainly not with their real names – and Hal had unthinkingly thrown it back in Bruce’s face that Batgirl could make him do something.

Jesus he was a moron.

“Master Jordan?” 

Hal snapped back to reality and looked at Alfred who was looking more than a little concerned. Or at least as concerned as Alfred ever looked near as Hal could tell. “I’m good.” He replied reflexively, wondering how long he’d been staring at Cassandra and how many times Alfred had tried to get his attention.

“If you say so, sir.” Alfred replied, brow raised, but saying nothing else, taking his leave of the room, which left him staring at Cassandra again, whose head was slightly tilted. Hal was beginning to wonder if he should say something. Or if she blinked.

That’s Bruce’s _daughter_. The thought wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. Bruce has a _daughter_.

“You know,” Hal found himself saying before his brain caught up with his mouth, “Clint Eastwood has made some pretty good movies.”


End file.
